


If He Could Gift Himself Forever

by Oaklin



Series: Forever Everything [96]
Category: Combat Zone Wrestling, Professional Wrestling, Ring of Honor, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: (Excess control your boyfriends illegal alcohol distribution please), (gonna get prohibition started up again), (luckily Sami was spared the embarrassment), At least Beef dresses the part, Breaking and Entering, Eddy's homemade alcohol strikes again, Hot Mess Incoming, Idiot Baby Wreslters, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, Swearing, Trespassing, drunk!Steen, obligatory Kevin Steen warning, stupid plans, the eternal question of where wrestlers who wear minimal clothing keep their wallet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-19 20:48:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14880953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oaklin/pseuds/Oaklin
Summary: A short interlude in which Kevin and Beef have a very weird conversation in the middle of the night.(this makes no goddamn sense on it's own, you need to be caught up with the current arch for this to be anything other than complete gibberish)





	If He Could Gift Himself Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello!
> 
> Excuse the shit out of me, last week was wild. Please don't mind the mess *sweeps weeks worth of used tissues and unpublished fic out of the way* I wanted this up last week, but then Dominion happened and, well... I got a little sidetracked. To be fair, I got distracted before the show even started, so the only thing that got published last week was a GL fic. Speaking of which, another one will probably go up next week, so this arch is going to drag on for a bit more time than I intended.
> 
> It's not too tragic I suppose, as this is just some filler exposition. Mostly because I figured I would try and explain Kevin's incomprehensible thought process at least a little bit. It still makes no damn sense, but at least I tried!

“Shit.”

It occurs to Kevin, two sleepless days and one too many bottles of Eddy’s kerosene flavored moonshine later, that this whole plan is (and Will Be) badly executed.  **Perhaps** most of his plans, lately, have been badly executed.

What exactly Kevin is supposed to do about that, he is unsure at the moment.

_ -why don’t you just focus on the task at hand- _

Fair. Bad plan or not, he did need to extract himself from his current situation, before going back to the drawing board and attempting to figure out another way out of this mess.

_ -no way out of a place you trapped yourself into- _

(hate it here)

_ -yeah well- _

_ -get over it- _

“Fuck,” Kevin tosses the scrap appointment notes and grocery lists down on the floor, kicking them haphazardly across the smooth wood finish with a huff of indignance that leaves him embarrassingly breathless. Pulling in a bracing inhale, Kevin turns, ready to get the fuck out of this place, to maybe try something a little less stupid next time-

“What the fuck are  _ you _ doing here?”

(oh fucking  **_wonderful)_ **

“I could say the same thing to you, asshole,” Kevin bites out before he really processes what exactly is happening, the snark his first reaction to being startled. It’s not everyday that someone walks in on him while he is rifling through someone else’s closet in the middle of the night.

_ -you are a fucking  _ **_idiot-_ **

(cut me some slack)

_ -...no- _

“Don’t get catty with me. I just caught you rummaging around in Zandig’s porn collection. Why the fuck-”

Kevin groans loudly, almost immediately regretting the action, as his own piercing wail sends unpleasant waves of pain through his throbbing head. He reaches up, cradling his skull, vision swimming as he tilts his head back to rest against the cold floral wallpaper. He cracks one eye open, glaring at the blond dumb ass in front of him.

_ -not his fault that you are an obsessive creeper with a possessive streak and a hangover- _

“Just fuck the fuck off, Beef. Fuck. I can’t deal with your shit right now.”

Beef oh-so-graciously does not fuck off at all. In fact, his draws the rest of the way into the room, glancing over his shoulder, back out into the hallway that he came from, before closing the door and stepping all the way into the bedroom. Kevin levers himself up off the floor, glancing warily around, eying Beef carefully, ready to chew him out.

Unfortunately, Beef’s attire catches his attention before he gets the chance.

“What in the holy hell are you  **wearing?** Is that a  _ catsuit?” _

Beef pauses his unnervingly close study of Kevin’s face, glancing down at his own body, as if he has to check that he was  **indeed** dressed up like discount Catwoman.

“Uh, I thought I should look the part?”

_ -seriously?- _

“Why in the fuck was  **_he_ ** Friends with  _ you _ in the first goddamn place?” Kevin can’t help the quip, blurting it out before his brain catches up to his mystified confusion. Beef reacts predictably to the sore subject, rounding fully on Kevin and glaring vehemently.

“Oh shit the shit up! You are at least  **twice** the train wreck I am, so I don’t want to hear any shit from you about me being a bad friend.”

Beef sounds indignant, as if Kevin would care enough about Beef to insult his honor or something.

(this is so stupid)

“I have never said anything about you being a bad friend. You just don’t fucking deserve  **_his_ ** Friendship,” Kevin can’t stop the words from coming out of his mouth, and he blames the alcohol when a soft mutter escapes his lips unbidden and uncalled for.

“...neither of us do.”

Beef’s face is probably doing something that looks stupid, and Kevin’s face is hopefully doing something that at least could pass for intimidating. Kevin wouldn’t know, as he can’t feel his facial muscles at the moment. Somewhere between the sleep deprivation and the alcohol, he lost not only his ability to think properly, but his central nervous system as well.

“Kevin-”

“While you are here, how about you hand over those pictures I asked you for?” Kevin cuts across Beef’s blithering, wanting nothing more than to go curl up in his motel room and feel the warm body on the other side of the bed breathing peacefully in time to Kevin’s own heartbeat.

(...whoa)

(can you  **_not)_ **

_ -talking to yourself like a Totally Sane Human Being- _

(shut up)

“Seriously? You want to do this  _ here?” _ Beef’s tone implies that Kevin is somehow the crazy one, when Beef is standing in the dark in a promoters bedroom, at three in the morning, dressed in a black skin-tight leotard.

_ -can’t you  _ **_both_ ** _ be the crazy one?- _

“Beef, I swear to god-”

“Alright, alright. Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I’ve got you fucking covered.” Beef pulls an envelope out from somewhere, and Kevin refuses to contemplate where exactly the pockets could be on that monstrosity. If Generico’s stashing habits were anything to go by, Beef had probably been keeping the pictures where a normal person would be wearing underwear.

_ -not appropriate to be thinking about underwear-less El Generico right at this moment- _

(...wasn’t)

(much)

“By the way, you can’t pin me to a wall, threaten to strangle me with my own intestines, and then pretend like I’m doing you a friendly favor when I get you the thing you threatened me to get for you. That is not how extortion works.”

“Fuck you Beef. As if you don’t want dirt on Zandig too. Don’t pretend.”

Beef looks thoughtful, “True, I suppose. Fair warning, there is nothing of interest in there at all. I followed him for a whole day and nada. Zilch.”

Kevin snorts, “You are stumbling around a dudes house in the middle of the night dressed like David Bowie's worst nightmare, so excuse me if I don’t trust your pristine judgment. Now give me the goddamn pictures.”

Beef rolls his eyes theatrically, but hands over the envelope without a fuss.

“There. You happy now?”

“You are still here, so obviously not,” Kevin says without taking his eyes off of the still shots of Zandig. “Fuck. Not a single interesting thing. Doesn’t that sonofabitch cheat on his wife, or suck dick for blow, or  _ something?” _

Beef cocks his head, “What in the hell are you even looking for? Do you really hate working for CZW that much? Why don’t you just quit?”

Kevin grunts, anger and irritation getting the best of him. “I fucking wish. Dragon is a piece of shit. The fucker did something -not sure  _ what _ exactly, but I know it was him- and now ROH won’t put up with my bullshit anymore, until I ‘prove my loyalty’, whatever the fuck that means”

Beef looks confused, which isn’t a surprise, considering that most everything probably confuses the dumb motherfucker. Probably because of all the hair dye destroying what little braincells he had to begin with.

“Okay, so what does that have to do with you sitting on the floor in Zandig’s apartment, rifling through his underwear drawer-”

“I told you this shit already Beef, pay attention. I want dirt on Zandig. I was hoping to blackmail him into pressuring Cary into taking me back. No such luck though.” Kevin tosses the photos back into the envelope before leaning down and pressing them into his boot, growling in disgust. “No idea why I’m telling you all this. Not like it matters now anyway, I suppose. What a bust. Fuck.”

Beef looks slightly mystified, his face contorting as he gazes at Kevin, “That is the most convoluted plan I have ever heard in my life, Steen.” There is a thick stream of incredulity in Beef’s voice as he speaks and it makes Kevin’s hackles rise, his self doubt from earlier ringing through his aching head as Beef echoes his own misgivings.

“Fuck off Beef. I don’t need that shit from you. I come up with perfectly reasonable plans, I will have you know."

Kevin manages to keep himself upright as he shoves past Beef, wobbling through the doorway with  some effort, before dramatically (and perhaps not-so-quietly) exiting the house, slipping off into the night and back to the soft warmth of his motel room.


End file.
